Nourish Me
by Sapsorrow86
Summary: Set around a year after Guide me Home. Rum and Belle find themselves sharing an awkward dinner with his ex and her paramour. When Millie sparks panic in Rum Belle does whatever she can to try and soothe him.


The suit helped. It fit like a glove, since it was custom-made, and it felt like a sleek armour. It was a Brioni, but unlike his usual suits this one was new, a three-piece cut in the classical style and a charcoal grey. He'd decided to ditch the suspenders, the tailored pants needing no extra support whatsoever and his lean frame no longer emaciated by too little food. He'd been out of the streets for over a year and it showed.

With fumbling fingers he adjusted the knot of the dark red tie, making sure it was centred and properly done. As much as he didn't want to have dinner with his ex and her... boyfriend that night he knew it was necessary. In many ways it was a culmination of all he'd gone through since the day he'd started to work for Belle, and he wanted to finish it. On the other hand he was deadly afraid seeing Millie again would make him revert into the pathetic shadow of a man he'd been with her, and all through the divorce proceedings. He'd let her turn him into a snivelling little idiot, a sorry excuse of a man and he wasn't sure he was strong enough not to make the same mistake twice.

Belle made a difference, though. He felt secure in the knowledge she'd be with him, pressed up against his side, a comforting presence. At first he'd seen it as being too dependent of her but she'd sat him down and asked that, if she asked him to be there for her in a situation that she found hard, he'd think she was depending on him too much. She'd immediately told her that no, that he was supposed to be there for her, make things easier, better, like with the shop.

"There you go. You can be there for me, let me be there for you."

She had a way to clarify things for him, his Belle. She was good with words, she knew their power and used them mostly to provide comfort, though he was pretty sure she was also quite adept at manipulating people with them. She was just so... unassuming. Petit, beautiful, bucolic. No one expected her to be any sort of evil mastermind, but she could be, when she so desired. The part of him that played the dealmaker in order to acquire antiques found it incredibly erotic.

But Belle was running late, and so he sat alone at the table that they'd reserved, praying she'd get there before the rest of the party. He'd feel instantaneously better with her by his side, he was sure of it, but she'd had run late finishing a transaction with a client who'd bought a very pricey Lladró figurine from them, so he was temporarily on his own.

His luck being what it was where Millie was concerned, she arrived first, her boy-toy by her side. Rumford took a deep breath, seeing his ex-wife for the first time in almost a decade. She looked almost exactly as he remembered, which likely meant some sort of surgical intervention, except she wore heavier make-up and more revealing clothes. the strapless dress she had on toyed with the line of decency, a little too revealing of her chest and too tight to be flattering, but it wasn't bad enough for people to fixate on it. For him it was mostly too much: cleavage, tightness, the metallic sheen, the gaudy jewellery... it was an assault of the senses, though she did look quite comfortable in a way she hadn't when he'd been with him. He might not like her look, but she certainly did. Her companion, still as smarmy as he remembered, seemed to have tried very hard to look like he didn't care about what he was wearing. In Rumford's eyes he looked unkempt, but it was the kind of carefully-constructed messiness that took hours of careful preparation. Fitted dark suit, dark red shirt partly unbuttoned and no tie. It also looked like he might be wearing eyeliner.

Cute.

He stood up to greet them both, trying to make it look like the cane was more an accessory than a necessity, and felt a twinge of relief to see Millie's eyes widened as they took in his suit, his posture and his face. Even if seeing her again made him feel a bit like the sorry idiot she'd dumped he certainly didn't look it. He caught Killian- and honestly, what kind of a name was that anyway?- looking at him strangely too and smirked for the man, the dealer eager to push to the surface and put the pup in his place. They made the most awkward small talk ever. Millie, thankfully, was still in the habit of loving to talk about herself and did so extensively, mentioning over and over again how much she loved her life in California, the sun, the beach, the sights, vacationing in Santa Barbara and meeting "the girls", whoever they were, in LA for a coffee and some shopping.

She apparently worked as a realtor of some sort and was quite good at it. Rum didn't doubt it. From what Bae told him Millie seemed to be bringing in a lot of cash. He was just glad, and thankful, that his boy hadn't gone without while he'd been homeless and away from him. Killian, on the other hand, seemed to think that "aspiring musician" was actually a job, though Rumford personally thought he was more of a professional mooch than anything else. Still Millie raved about his music like he was the new Jagger or Bowie, so he guessed she didn't much mind being the sole bread-winner.

Though most of the talk seemed designed in order to rub Rum's face on Millie's perfect life and stress the fact that leaving him had been the best decision she'd ever had, as long as it kept her talking he didn't care. It was when the conversation turned towards him that he started to get agitated. At first he kept his answers brief, succinct, but Millie demanded more and more details. The more he told her, though, the less impressed she seemed. He'd seen her pull that hundreds of times before, belittling the things that made him happy, from his work to his hobbies. He fumbled when she pushed harder, looking to defend his life, which he had painstakingly rebuild from the ashes of his depression, but his nerves made it difficult, acting up. He fought to keep it from showing, to pretend he was all right, unaffected, but he could feel his control slipping, fading. This hadn't been a good idea, he wasn't ready, he needed to...

"So sorry I'm late, I got held up by a client."

The relief was instantaneous. Just her voice was enough to get him away from the edge of a panic attack. He turned around to get a glimpse of her and he nearly swallowed his tongue. She looked... The dress was classy, grey with a black and light-grey pattern and cinched at the waist by a metallic, rose-coloured belt. The skirt was belle-shaped and... short. Not scandalously short, and it balanced out with the very proper neckline, but it showcased her legs like it was no one's business. The nude pumps completed the look, along with light make-up, rose lips and her hair pulled back in a loose bun. In short she looked like someone's very elegant wet dream.

He knew it was petty but it made him feel better to see Belle all dressed-up like that, elegant but sexy. He glanced around and saw men staring as Belle kissed Millie's cheek and then politely shook Killian's hand before sitting down, unaware of the way the pretty boy's eyes practically devoured her legs before they disappeared under the table.

"I hope you haven't been waiting much."

She gave him a brief but warm kiss on the cheek, one of her hands patting his left knee, as if she knew- and of course she did- that he needed as much contact as she could give him.

"Not at all, dear, not at all. So you are the mysterious Belle?"

The strange phrasing of the statement as a question should've rankled Rumford, but it secretly thrilled him. Millie, having the low opinion she did of him, hadn't been expecting Belle to be... well, Belle. Young, pretty, charming, not to mention articulate and smart as Hell, but those weren't qualities his ex admired in others.

Conversation started flowing again, and he took the opportunity to regroup. Belle was smiling beside him, talking animatedly about her work, and his. She was subtly singing his praises, bless her. It seemed to throw his ex off-balance, and he was sure that the way Killian kept ogling his Belle didn't help. Other men might have felt jealous, but he only felt stupidly gleeful. It wasn't mature or very... healthy, he supposed, but he felt a bit like he'd "won" some kind of competition with the younger man. He might have "taken" Millie, but in the end he'd found Belle.

The first course gave way to the main one, and even though it wasn't the most pleasant evening he'd ever had, he was coping, the food was decent and he was staying off the wine, which always helped. Millie seemed put out by the fact that the outing wasn't going the way she imagined it would but was pleasant enough in spite of it.

When it was time for dessert he thought the worst was over and that maybe confronting his past hadn't been a bad idea after all. It was then that the subject of Bae's birthday came up. Rum wanted the kid to spend it with him and Belle, since it was during winter break and he didn't have school. Millie seemed not to object to the idea.

"Well, I suppose you owe it to Bae, after being AWOL for most of his life."

The blow was unexpected, but Rum fought not to react. He'd made peace with that, he'd talked to Bae at length about his depression, his life on the street and his alcoholism and his son, who was really too good, had forgiven him. That's all that mattered.

But Millie must have seen something in his eyes that betrayed his weakness, because she wouldn't let the matter rest. She talked about how glad she'd been to leave him before he "took her down with him", how selfish his breakdown had been because it'd left her alone with a child to care for- never mind the fact that for some reason she'd forcefully acquired full custody of Bae against his express wishes and after taking him to California without consulting him first. She talked at length about supporting him, raising him and trying hard to find a "good, strong male role-model" so her son wouldn't be like his father.

"I wanted to weed the cowardice, the weakness out of him." She told Belle, acting as if Rumford wasn't sitting right there. "I wanted my boy to have more of a chance in life. It was for the best, in retrospective, you bailing out on him like you did, disappearing from his life."

"Well, Bae certainly doesn't see it that way."

His words carried a hint of doubt, of question, and it was enough to make Millie smile. The waiter finally appeared to take their order for dessert, and he managed to mutter something about a German chocolate cake before he excused himself, as calmly as possible, to go to the restroom. He forced himself to walk and not run and sighed in relief when he saw the room was empty. Letting his cane drop and bracing himself on the marble counter he let panic engulf him, choking him. He couldn't go back, couldn't face Millie and her accusations, couldn't face the truth behind her words. He'd left Bae, abandoned him when he needed him. He was weak, a coward, just like his father who had abandoned him when he'd been a wee lad. The apple, it seemed, hadn't fallen far from the tree. Rotten to the core, the whole bloodline. That's all he'd ever have to offer Bae: bad blood, bad genes, bad experiences.

It spiralled out of control quickly, his thoughts, and a sort of numbness started to creek along his limbs, going to his chest. He started panting, his vision blurring as something cold seemed to slither into his body and compress his heart and lungs.

Dimly he thought he heard someone call his name, but he disregarded the voice at first, too preoccupied with trying to gasp for air. It was only when he felt hands petting his hair that he struggled to focus his gaze. Belle was in front of him, her eyes worried as they looked up at him.

"Rum, breathe. Come on, it's all right, it's gonna be all right."

Her hands slid down his neck and squeezed his shoulders in a reassuring way. It helped, but he was past the point of needing a hug. He didn't deserve her affection in any case. Like Millie had pointed out all he ever did was drag the one he cared about down with him. Her presence only served to conjure up in his mind the countless way he could hurt her without meaning to. He stumbled back till he was backed into a corner, the sink on his left and a wall behind him.

"No, no, no, no!" He tugged at his hair forcefully, like he was trying to rip it off. He was at a loss for what to do, wanting to bask in the comfort his lovely Belle offered her but not wanting to taint her with his shortcomings or rely on her strength. Sooner or later she'd get tired of carrying him around, grow resentful of him. But being the kind soul she was she'd never tell him, just endure him. The mere thought made him nauseous.

"Rum, talk to me, let me help."

She took a step towards him, trying to gently grasp one of his arms but he recoiled, shoving her away as gently as he could. He kept evading her as he ranted, blurting everything out in an effort to make her see just what was going on.

"I'll ruin you. Just like I ruin everything else. Just like I'll ruin Bae. He can't come for winter break, he needs to stay away. And you too. I... I don't want to hurt you Belle, but I'm weak and I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm..."

He stopped abruptly, almost swallowing his tongue. Belle had somehow gotten close in spite of his evasions and was now cupping him, her grip gentle but firm. He could feel the heat of her through his trousers and underwear and it froze him in place, all thoughts leaving him. She pressed her other hand to his chest, gently petting him above the vest, looking right into his eyes with a soft expression. The hand on his chest slid upwards till it was loosely wrapped around his throat, stroking it as if it would coax it to relax and breathe normally. After a moment he felt himself do that exactly, slumping slightly against the corner as he let Belle's hands coax him into a more sedate state. His whole attention became riveted to his genitals almost against his will. In a strange sort of way the contact grounded him, allowed him to focus and not spiral into the darkness of his thoughts.

"Better, darling?" She crooned into his ear, remembering to keep rubbing him rhythmically. He nodded forcefully, allowing his forehead to rest on the crook of her shoulder. He felt tired, and confused but more open to accepting comfort.

"And are you ready to listen to me now?" She squeezed him delicately, letting him feel the barest scrape of her nails through the layers separating them. He let out a soft little whimper against her skin, fidgeting slightly and nodding again. "Then listen to me carefully, Rum. You are a good man. Kind, decent, a concerned father and devoted to those you love. Your fears don't make you a bad person. Your depression doesn't make you weak, it makes you human. Even more, it makes you a survivor."

She pressed her body against his, nuzzling his throat and wrapping an arm around him. Her hand grabbed him more firmly, as if to highlight her words and the mixture of arousal and love that came for the physical contact as well as her words made him warm inside.

"I'm in awe of you every day. And I think about how much my life's improved because you're in it and it makes me wanna cry, in the good way. I know that you have it in your head that you owe me, that I somehow miraculously came into your life and acted the part of the magic genie, fixing your life all by myself, but it's not true. You did that, Rum. You took a chance, and made the best of it. I watched you be strong and get better every single day you came to work for me and how could I not fall in love with such a man?"

She squeezed tighter and he yowled, finding himself eager for her. But it wasn't just her hot little hand pressing against his cock. It was also her voice, her words. He caught a glimpse of what he looked like from her point of view and it was breath-taking, surreal.

"You've made my life so much better. I love your shy smiles, and the way you are in awe of antiques. I adore how you discretely cuddle up to me on the couch even though we've been dating for months now and the way you worship me in bed. I love you."

The last part was said so softly, so gently, that it broke him. He lifted his head from her shoulder to seek her mouth with his own, humming in pleasure when she immediately parted her lips, content to let him take whatever he needed from her. He plunged his tongue inside, seeking out her own in a move that was more desperate than playful. His hands found her waist and wound around it, hands sliding down to seek the hemline of her blessedly-short skirt. In the meantime he continued to kiss her with abandon, nipping at her lower lip and tracing the roof of her mouth with his tongue, seeking to rip every little sigh and mewl he could from her. They were blessed reassurances of his worth, of the truth of Belle's words. She loved him. She found him desirable.

Worthy.

He let out a hopeless keen when his hands found her bare thighs- thankfully she was wearing thigh-highs and not pantyhose- and realized he wanted more but couldn't very well fuck her standing up, bad leg and all. It didn't even cross his mind that he couldn't very well fuck her in the restroom of a very packed restaurant while his ex-wife and her paramour were waiting for them, strangely enough. He tried to content himself with the kissing and with stroking her upper thighs and ass with his hands, trying to pretend he didn't want- need- more. Finally Belle drew away from him, their lips separating with a wet pop that had him shivering. For a moment she just contemplated him, and he was sure she could see every dark little thought of his in his eyes. Surprisingly enough he didn't mind. There was something comforting about being vulnerable and open in front of Belle. It was liberating, in a way.

"Tell me what you need." She told him when he whimpered again, all but thrusting gently against the hand cupping him. For a second he contemplated saying nothing but Belle looked at him so patiently, so warm and soft and loving that he relented at last.

"I need you. I always need you."

With his admission came a newfound urgency that had him gripping her hips almost to the point of bruising. She took charge, walking backwards a few paces and then hopping onto the marble counter between two sinks. She spread her legs apart in silent invitation, one hand loosely holding one of his.

"You can have me, Rum. I want you to."

Her words sent an electric charge through him that propelled him forward till he was nestled between her thighs, their pelvises aligning perfectly on account of the fact the counter was a bit lower than what was usual. He attacked her mouth, one hand gripping her hair almost savagely while the other delved inside her dress, stroking the lace on the end of her stocking and kneading the uncovered flesh just above, enjoying its softness. He was content to furiously devour her mouth and explore for a bit but soon grew greedy and let his lips trail away from hers, nipping at her jawline softly and then focusing on her throat, so lovely and so exposed with her head thrown back as it was. He let his lips, teeth and tongue worship her neck completely, lapping at the light sheen of sweat that had formed there. In his arms she writhed artlessly, letting out encouraging little sighs and soft, longing keens when he did something she particularly enjoyed. He felt desperate, jittery and all over the place but Belle didn't seem to mind at all, or to find him wanting.

"Sweetheart," he growled low in his throat before he clamped his mouth on a sensitive spot on her neck and sucked hard, feeling nothing but utter pride when she grabbed fistfuls of his hair and tugged on them hard. She only did that when she really, really liked something he'd done. Had he been less on edge he would've taken the time to draw out the foreplay but he was too wound up emotionally to consider it. He let the fingers of his right hand delve into her lacy underwear and he groaned in relief when he felt how wet she was for him. With forceful little pulls he managed to slide her underwear down her legs, pocketing it before fumbling with his belt and the zipper of his pants till he could finally take himself in hand and position himself properly. When he thrust his hips forward, entering her, he groaned in relief, arms clutching her closer so he could be as buried inside her as possible. For a moment his desperation left him. It was enough just to be inside her, to feel her tight and hot around his cock and to have her hands carding through his hair. There were no doubts when he was so enveloped in her, only the certainty of the love between them.

The need crept up on him quick and so he pulled almost all the way out before driving back inside, kissing her to muffle his sounds of pleasure as he ravaged her in a way he'd never before. He was almost brutal, channelling all the nervous energy that had been choking him moments ago into thrusting in and out of her.

He sunk his teeth into her flesh when he came, bracing his hands against the counter because his legs were shaking too badly to support his weight. He stubbornly kept his pace, grinding his teeth and changing angles till he felt Belle's inner walls flutter deliciously against his cock, the sensation almost too raw to be pleasant. He half-slumped against her, his head pillowed by her chest and his hair gently stroked by her fingers. Every muscle in his body felt exquisitely relaxed and he felt no traces of the panic left in him. It was over, he'd pulled through.

"I love you, Belle." He muttered, raising his head to plant a kiss on her right cheek. She smiled up at him, choosing to kiss his forehead before finger-combing his hair.

"You look a mess. I imagine I'm not much better."

She was completely and utterly rumpled, to be honest. Hairstyle ruined, dress askew and a big purple bruise on her lovely neck. He helped her hopped onto the floor, watching her as she straightened the dress, re-did her bun and took out from a pocket he hadn't know the dress had a little tube that he recognized as concealer. He watched her apply it masterfully, though he could still see a faint trace of his mark on her.

"You ready to go back?" She asked finally, linking the fingers of both their hands together.

He nodded and told her he'd go first so it didn't look so suspicious. In reality he knew there was a small chance they'd be able to hide their tryst from his ex or her boyfriend but he didn't much care. He doubted either would bring it up and whatever they thought about Belle and him having sex in a public place didn't bother him much.

He unlocked the restroom door- it was then that he realized she'd locked it in the first place, clever thing- and cautiously made his way back to the table. Since Millie had ordered soufflé the desserts had just gotten to the table and he waited patiently for Belle to arrive before delving into his German chocolate cake with gusto, spying his girlfriend eating a slice of cheesecake brimming with raspberry sauce. He was in the process of admiring how she licked the spoon when he noticed both Millie and Killian looking at Belle's neck. Sure enough the concealed bruise was even more visible under the better light of the main floor of the restaurant. Killian stared at it with his jaw hanging open and it took his woman kicking him on the shin for him to take his eyes away.

When the check came Rum took it graciously, noticing that the Irish didn't fight him on it. He slipped a hand into one of his pockets, looking for his wallet, when his fingers brushed against scratchy lace. He quickly retreated, going for his other pocket while he tried not to be too smug about being the only person in the whole restaurant who knew that Isabelle French wasn't wearing underwear under that short couture dress. It was, indeed, quite a boost for his ego.


End file.
